


Only death will tear us apart

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Greece, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Louis, Eventual Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Some Humor, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>║≡║ <em>The legend begins...<em>║≡║</em></em><br/>Harry, has been exiled by his own father. Is sent to live in the kingdom of Phithia so that he could be raised in the shadows of King Peleus and his beautiful, strong golden son Louis who is the child of a sea goddess. When word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped, the men of Greece, must lay siege to Troy in her name. By the promise of a glorious destiny, Louis joins their cause, and torn between love and fear for his friend, Harry follows. Little do they know that the Fates will test them both as never before and demand a terrible sacrifice.</p><p> </p><p>  <em><br/><em>(TSOA au where Louis is Achilles, Harry is patrocles, Zayn is helen of troy, Liam is menelaus and Niall is a merman)</em></em><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Only death will tear us apart

**Author's Note:**

> This was a ziam au, i dont know how it changed but, who knows. Dont worry if you haven't read TSOA or the illad. Its not needed. Also, i don't really have a clue what this even is. Hope you all enjoy. Non beta'd so yall are gonna have to let me live.  
> I also apologize for the first chapter, its kind of like the the first two chapters in TSOA

Harry’s father Des was a king, and his father was the son of kings. He had a short stature, as everyone in greece did. He was bulky, all shoulders, barely any legs. He married his mother Anne, when she was only fourteen and deemed a great child bearer. It was a match made by the heavens, she was an only child and her fortune will go to Harry’s father.  
  
  Unfortunately, he did not find out until the day of the wedding she was simple.Anne’s father had kept her veiled until the ceremony and Des had persisted that command. It was not an obstacle in their love. If her beauty was not there then there will always be slave girls and boys. When the veil was removed at last, it was then they all know she was stupid. She had smiled brightly. Brides do not smile.  
  
Harry recalls his father telling him about his birth, when he had taken Harry quickly away to a midwife. She had taken pity on his mother by giving her a pillow instead of her baby. She was not the wiser, did not even notice a change.  
  
Harry, however had quickly became a disappointment to many. Nothing like his father. small and scrawny. He was not strong nor could he sing. He could not even run. Only great and powerful thing about zayn was that he was not dead or sick. He had somehow managed to escape the cramps and colds that his peers seemed to get. Was he inhuman? His father detested him, scowling, watching disgruntled. Harry’s body trembled with fear from his gaze, While his mother stood behind him, spilling wine on herself  
  
He was ten when it is his fathers turn to host the games. Men came from as far as sparta, and their storehouses became filled with gold. Hundred servants work for twenty days to beat out the racing track and to clear it from stones. His father was determined to have a finest and greatest games of his generation.   
  
     Harry recalls the runners in great detail,their tan bodies slicked with oil, stretching on the track beneath the sun. They are boys and men of all sorts, beardless youth and broad shouldered husbands. Their legs all carved with muscle. The bull had been killed, the last of its blood into dark bronze bowls. It went silently to its demise, A good omen for the games arrival.  
      
 The runners gather before the throne where Des and Harry sat, crowded with prizes they will hand out to winners. A collection of mixing bowls,worn down bronze tripods, ash-wood spears with iron tips, it was a highly rare and precious but the true prize was what Harry was given to hold. A wreath of dusty-coloured green leaves, freshly picked, rubbed to shine bright. His father gave it to him grudgingly. Which Harry can't seem to fathom, seeing as all he has to do, is to hold it.  
           
 The youth are up first, they wait, shuffling their feet in the sand for the go ahead from the priest. They are all in their first flush of growth.  Bones visible, sharp and poking against the taut skins of their young bodies. Harry’s eye catches on the light haired fellow. He leans in subtly to get a closer look. The hair is lit like bronze, with glints of gold. Fit only for a prince,- the circlet of a prince.  
  
       He’s quite shorter than others, Harry noted and still quite in his child form. His hair is long, and tied back with leather; it burns against the dark, bare skin of his back. His face, when he turns, is serious as a man’s. When the priest strikes the ground, he slips past the bodies of the older boys. He moves easily, his heels turning pink as  tongues. He wins.

Harry stared as his father lifts the garland from his lap and crowned him; the leaves seem almost black against the brightness of his hair. His father, Peleus, comes to claim him, smiling and proud. Peleus’ kingdom is smaller than Des’, but his wife is rumoured to be a goddess, and his people love him. Harry’s own father gazed with envy. His wife is stupid and his son too slow to race in even the youngest group. He turned to Harry. ‘That is what a son should be.’   
  
  Harry’s hands feel empty and cold without the garland. He watched King Peleus embraced his son. He saw  the boy as he tossed the garland in the air, and catched it again. He laughed with all his might , and his face is brighten with victory.   
  
Beyond this, Harry remembered little more than scattered images from his life. His father sat frowned on his throne, a cunning toy horse Harry loved, his mother on the beach, her eyes turned towards the Aegean. In this  memory, he skipped  stones for her, _plunk_ , across  the sea. She seemed to like the way the ripples looked, dispersed back to glass. Or maybe it is the sea itself she adores. At her temple a burst of white gleams like healthy bone, the scar from the time her father  had hit her with the tip of a sword. Her toes poke up from the sand where she has hidden them, and he is careful not to disturb them as Harry searched for rocks. he choose one and flung  it out, glad to be good at this.  
  
   It is the only memory Harry has of his mother and he is sure he must of made it up. No way his father had let him have a vivid memory of his simple mother who gave birth to a simpler son. Together they would never make a good pair, but the past is in the past and Harry rather not dwell on it for so long.  He does not remember the smell of the waves nor the feel of the grains of sand under his feet, the coastline had faded away from his memory. So much as has passed since then. **  
  
║≡║  
 ******

Harry was summoned to his fathers chambers and quickly knelt on the ground before his fathers throne where the man sat with disdain. He’d silently curse his father for not have placed a rug for messengers who had long messages. Quite cruel of his father not have one, but when was he not?  
  
“King yaser’s son is ready for marriage” was what he had said. Harry knew the name all too well. The king of sparta, and had owned many lots of lands. The amount Harry’s own father wanted for himself.  Harry had heard of his son too, rumoured to be the most wonderful and lovely man in all of their countries. Not one of sports and other manly things but tended to do normally considered ‘womanly’ things. His mother, patricia was said to have been fucked by Zeus, the king of the gods himself, disguised as a swan. Nine months later, she gave birth to zayn who was then thrown a party for in the baby’s name. She then bore three more children, Doniya, waliyha and safaa. Knowing the gods being terrible parents, anyone who will marry zayn will be promised many things.  
  
  Harry registered the information, but did not speak on it. He had no use for it. Des cleared his throat, loud in the silent chamber. “We would do well to have her in our family. You will go and put yourself forth as a husband.” with no one but the two men, Harry’s huff of shock was for his father's ears alone. Harry did not voice his discomfort, his father already  knew his words.  
That Harry was merely fifteen, ugly, unpromised and uninterested.  
  
 The pair had left early in the morn, their packs heavy with gifts and food for the journey. Soldiers escorted them, in their finest armor. Harry don’t remember much of the trip—it was overland, through countryside that left no impression. They were not the first suitors to arrive at the citadel as the stable was filled with horses. Harry’s father seemed displeased with the ceremony afforded to them, he saw him rub a hand over the stone  in their  rooms, with a look of displeasure. Harry had brought a toy from home, a horse whose legs could move. Harry lifted one hoof, then the other, imagined that he had ridden him instead of the donkey. A soldier took pity on Harry and lent him his dice. He clattered them against the floor until they showed all sixes in one throw.  
  
Finally, the day had arrived where Harry had been ordered by his father to be scrubbed up by perfection. He had Harry change his tunic many times before and then have him change once more. Harry could not tell the difference between the crimson red or the deep violets. None hid the fact that he was a lanky boy with no promise. Harry’s father had handed him a gold  beaten mixing bowl embossed with the story of the princess Danae. His face stern and the beard gave him a severe look as the words he spoke were on Harry’s mind. _“Do not disgrace us”_

  
Harry had heard the great hall before he saw it in full, the sound of hundreds of voices banging against stone walls, the clatter of armor. The servants had thrown open the windows to try to dampen the sound; they had hung tapestries, wealth indeed, on every wall. Harry had never seen so many men inside before. Not men, no, _Kings._  
  
Harry and Des  were called forward to council, seated on benches draped with cowhide. Servants faded to the shadows as Harry’s father’s fingers dug into my collar, warning him not to fidget.The pain a dull ache in his body but nothing could compare to the feeling of nerves in his stomach and hands. His brain pounded with the will to impress zayn. His palms become sweat with each suitor  
  
“Philoctetes, comrade of hercules. Bow that he had donned me with before his death”  
  
“Idomenus, King of crete,” His voice was as soft spoken as Harry’s own mother, one could have them believe that he was merely a woman in disguise. “A golden axe,symbol of my people”  
  
And last, the was great Liam. Son of atreus. Less bulkier than his brother Agamemnon, his hair was as shiny and brown as peleus’ son but wasn't quite as stunning at the other boy. He adorned a slight scruff and brown eyes to match his face. With Harry being merely fiveteen and not a son of a god, he easily knew he would not even get a look at. At least he thought peleus golden son would be here to console his nerves but he was not in attendance .   
  
“I, Liam son of atreus, brother to Agamemnon. present the lovely and stunning zayn with a beautiful crown of leaves, spun with gold. Though a future king like you, needs no adornment” Liam spoke,smile wide, his eyes never leaving zayn’s gaze. Harry could tell. Man after man, he had grown restless listen to everyone try to impress zayn.  
  
“Des, is it true your wife has passed? my condolences” Harry snapped out of his revelry, as his father began to speak. He would sure keep in his mind that his father cared not for his mother unlike Harry did. It saddened him so, but what could he do.  
  


“She lives, but my son, Harry is here for Zayn’s hand” Harry knelt, the silence huff of laughter that came from zayn had fallen on his hears and Harry swore his alone.  
  
“He is merely a boy, look at him. No facial hair? not even sixteen” Yaser said, dissonant as he pointed at Harry. It was emotionless and cold.  
  
“Yaser, i believe i have enough facial hair for the two of us” Harry’s father spoke with laughter, the laughter was returned but not in full. Yaser nodded. The stone floor dug into Harry’s skin, yet he did not move. he was used to the pain. My father spoke again, in the silence. “Others have brought bronze and wine, oil and wool. I bring gold, and it is only a small portion of my stores.” Harry was aware of his hands on the beautiful bowl, touching the story’s figures: Zeus appearing from the streaming sunlight, the startled princess, their life.

“My daughter and I are grateful that you have brought us such a worthy gift, though paltry to you.” The other kings laughed, Harry’s face flushing red with pure embarrassment and his cheeks hot.

  
“For the other kings who have laughed, i ponder what you will do when Zayn decides on someone else” Harry looked up at the voice,A man who had not spoken yet. He was the last in line, sitting at ease on the bench, his curling hair gleaming in the light of the fire. He had a jagged scar on one leg, a seam that stitched his dark brown flesh from the heel to the knee, wrapping around the muscles of the calf and burying itself in the shadow beneath his tunic. It looked like it had been a knife, I thought, or something like it, ripping upwards and leaving behind feathered edges, whose softness belied the violence that must have caused it.

  
“Odysseus is cursing us i say!” A large man yelled from the other room, the other kings cheered in agreement. Liam watched observantly, before he turned to zayn. Who Harry noticed, had a silent conversation. That was the first sign of true love Harry had seen in his life, the two had acted as if they had known each other for years and this was merely childsplay    
  
“Men, men” Odysseus calmed the crowd “let zayn decide who he shall go with and who ever he picks, we must promise not to harm him, an oath. and yaser, i will receive what i had wished for in private” Yaser had nodded. Harry’s father whispered in anger, but nevertheless lined Harry up with the others. Odysseus stood beside Zayn’s throne chair who turned to him and whispered something in his ear.   
  
“I agree to this, and certainly if you do not, i advise you to leave at this instant” Zayn had finally said, his melodic voice,soft and pleasing to the ear. If Harry had been bit older, he would have tried for his hand.  
  
“My dear son” yaser said as he took Zayn’s hand “who do you pick” The kings bulked themselves up, as they tried to appease Zayn’s eye. Harry’s father’s death grip on his shoulder, but Harry knew without hesitation who Zayn wanted.  
  
“Liam” He said quickly, before he left the room.The other men were enraged as yaser came to great Liam with welcoming arms. Liam walked with the him and Odysseus who had Zayn’s two veiled sisters with him on his arm. Des dragged Harry out of the room, and left for home as fast he could. His father never spoke of the whole trip and Harry once again have thought to have dreamt it up all up. By dinner time, Harry had settled to thinking it never did happen. His father had retired himself to his room and that was the last of Harry saw of him for a while. Not that Harry cared, he never quite liked his father.

******  
  
**

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://drakeception.tumblr.com/)


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